


Lonely

by shiv (fantasyprone)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 12:19:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11828628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fantasyprone/pseuds/shiv
Summary: Set during Episode 8, Glass And Bone - Kima and Clarota got hella sassy and Sam made an implication about them having sex and Y'KNOW WHAT I WANNA SEE THAT. Anyway, since none of you would write it, I present the Clarota/Kima fic I was waiting for.I'm sorry. I'm not sorry. I'm kinda sorry.





	Lonely

**Author's Note:**

> I'm very disappointed in this fandom for being so goddamn pure and sweet, I can't believe you left it to me to write this, COME ON EVEN SAM WAS LIKE "WHAT IF THEY START FUCKING". 
> 
> Matthew Mercer, I'm sorry. But I was in love with Kima from the moment she broke her handcuffs, and you do tend to give your villains sexy voices, and then you put Siouxie and the Banshees' cover of Trust In Me on your mix for Clarota? I'm only human, sir.
> 
> Anyway, you shouldn't read this filth but if you do, let me know where the fucked-up kids are hiding so I can come huddle with you.

Kima took the first watch. Well, Kima and Clarota took the first watch, but the way Kima saw it, she should be watching the mind-flayer at least as much as the darkness beyond the camp.

She sat with her back to the sleeping forms of Vox Machina, straight-backed on a stone outcrop, her blade bare across her knees. This, at least, she could trust. Steel in her hand and solid ground under her feet, and there was nothing in the Underdark that she need fear with the blessing of Bahamut upon her. 

Time slipped by, though it was invisible as the stars in this subterranean hellhole, and her attention wandered. Her eyes kept scanning the dark, her ears pricked for any movement, but her thoughts wandered as always back to happier times, warmer places. 

Back to Allura. 

Allura, with her enchantments and spells. Allura, letting her magic take care of making the tea and forgetting all about it until it was too cold to drink. Allura with her hair in long braids, smiling gently down at her. Allura, who sent this party of adventurers into the jaws of death itself to rescue her. 

Allura, who she'd left holding back tears, standing alone in Emon as Kima went to pursue her fate.

"Who is Allura?"

Kima's back tensed and she swung around as the sibilant hiss of Clarota's voice slid into her mind. He glided as slowly and silently as ever across the stone, hands folded, his tentacles curling unsettlingly below his dark, alien eyes. She scowled at him. "None of your concern."

"A friend, perhaps? From the lands above?" The word friend rang hollow and she cast her gaze back across the dark cavern, refusing to acknowledge the creature behind her. A long moment passed and she sensed him draw nearer behind her. Her fingers tensed on the grip of her sword and she turned slowly when she felt his thin hand rest on her shoulder. 

"You," Clarota's tentacles flicked as though searching for the word. "Miss her."

Her sword moved almost on its own as he loomed over her, his natural height advantage emphasized by the way he hovered a few inches off the ground. "Don't act like you know what that word means."

He seemed unperturbed, ignoring the sword held threateningly between them. "Do you think I don't remember being part of a greater whole? I was once joined to the elder brain, and every moment that I am separate-" The hiss in her mind cut off as his tentacles writhed. Kima had never cared to learn how to read illithid faces, but naked pain was hard to mistake. The point of her blade sank slowly and for a moment, she almost didn't hate him. The whispering voice came again, but quieter, and more slowly. "I have been alone - utterly alone - for a very long time."

Kima watched him for a very long moment. He glided ever so slightly closer, then stopped, and she studied the way he seemed to sway uncertainly in the air. 

"What do you want?" she asked slowly. 

"What do _you_ want, Lady Kima of Vord?"

The question knocked her off balance. Of all the things she would expect from a mind-flayer, not to mention an outcast even among his own foul people, such a simple and direct question slipped past her defences. She couldn't help feeling a strange... what was the word? Not _kinship_ \- the very thought was repulsive. But somehow the quiet ache, the yearning for Allura's touch that pulsed behind her ribs, was reflected in his weird, alien face.

He sank slowly to the floor, then further - folding his long legs under himself to finally look her straight in the eyes. His eyes were pure black, deep dark pools that drown the unwary. Chips of obsidian, like those that Allura had enchanted in happier days. His tentacles curled inwards as he reached out a hand towards her, as though offering a gift.

"Don't you want to not be alone, for a little while?"

And Kima was so very, very lonely.

She set her sword aside on the rock - still in easy reach.

"If your maw comes anywhere near my skull, illithid, know that Vox Machina will never find the pieces of your corpse."

"As you wish." His thin hands reached out and somehow, she didn't flinch when they unbuckled her armour. His greyish-purple skin was cold, but warmed quickly against her skin as he pulled off the ill-fitting chain and laid it aside gently - quietly, so as not to wake the others. _Oh gods, the others_ , Kima thought in a brief moment of panic, but then he was pushing her back across the stone to ease off her trousers and by all the gods it felt so GOOD to have someone touch her like this. His fingers were thin and bony but so gentle as they traced down her thighs, across her calves, pulling her boots off one by one before he cast the trousers aside. For a moment, she could imagine Allura's fingers, her warm, human skin in the late-afternoon sunlight that streamed through the windows of the ivory tower - _but don't pollute that memory_ , she told herself, _this isn't Allura_.

 _Oh gods, Allura_ , she thought, and fought down another wave of flight-or-fight instinct, her whole body tensing.

"Trust me," that whispering voice murmured inside her mind. 

"I don't," she whispered back.

This was Clarota - a goddamned illithid! - in a dark corner of a dark place, and she was letting him press her thighs apart, and suddenly there were too many fingers entirely and she shot up to see his tentacles tracing patterns across her inner thighs, almost tickling, certainly not safe, what was she DOING-

-but then those tentacles flicked across her lips and she shuddered and fell back, catching herself on her hands. It had been far too long and no human, no halfling, nobody EVER had that weird sensuous feeling that slipped into her dark curls and traced ever so delicately across her clit. Her fingers clenched against rough stone as one tentacle curled into a knot and pressed down on that sensitive nub.

Kima had never felt like a blushing virgin, even when she was one, but it was all she could do to hold on amid the rage of sensations against her. There was too much, too much contact, too much sensation, too many hideously dexterous and determined touches driving her mad. The stone under her warmed rapidly and she felt herself sweating even in the cool air of the cavern, biting her lip and trying to keep control. The fire in her cheeks was nothing compared to the wet heat coiled between her legs, the ache that yearned to be filled setting in.

And yet Clarota continued to flick lazily over her, his tentacles becoming slick as they trailed between her lips and over her clit and back again, teasingly light, too much but at the same time never enough. One curled around her clit and squeezed and her hips bucked against him, one hand grabbing instinctively at the back of his weird metal helmet. He didn't say anything - not even inside her mind - but she could feel the smug satisfaction rolling off him in waves as she moved to claw at his shoulders. At least they were clothed, and less unsettling than a bald helmeted head. That thing curled around her clit didn't move, but the rest retreated for a moment and she almost protested. 

Instead, she whimpered aloud when the first tentacle slipped inside her. 

"Relax," that voice hissed in her mind again. Then, "Do you want Vox Machina to hear you?"

A rush of shame flushed over her skin at the thought and she bit down on her fist to keep silent. She swore she heard him chuckle as his hands gripped her hips and that tentacle squirmed deeper, like nothing she'd ever felt before. Her back arched and she choked on a stifled moan when he pressed against that spot inside her, panting as he withdrew. 

Then he rubbed back over it again. 

And again. 

And again, and curled and flicked and pressed again as she bit red marks into her own hand in desperation. Her fevered breathing was the only sound to mask the wet, obscene noises as he worked her over, adding another tentacle to move in counterpoint to the first, then another. 

"Clarota-" she warned in a choked whisper. His eyes glinted up at her, dark, menacing, intoxicating, and she felt him redouble his efforts. She tore her gaze away from him and hid her face behind her arm as she shuddered and came, biting into her own bicep to muffle her strangled cries, her thighs clamping down around the cold metal and clammy skin as she rode out her pleasure - his tentacles still working through her orgasm, pushing her on and on until she finally went limp. 

She fell back against the stone, gasping, staring into the darkness above her. Somewhere in her peripheral vision, Clarota stood, wiped his tentacles clean on a bit of cloth - on her discarded trousers, in fact, and dropped them next to her. 

"I am not the monster you took me for, Kima. Think on it." His voice faded from her mind as his form glided into the darkness.

Her breathing evened out slowly.

 _Oh great Bahamut_ , she thought, _with a mind-flayer? What came over me?_

She pulled on her clothes and closed the fastenings on her armour tighter, as though they could protect against the deep chill sinking into her flesh. What could have convinced her to do that?

_What, indeed._


End file.
